The sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon, and moonlight spilled across the land.
Senju Ryōta walked home at an unhurried pace. He was in a good mood—no, more than that. Lately, he'd been in a consistently good mood.
Within the Senju clan, any child with sufficient talent would be assigned a marriage arrangement. In a sense, it was a way to protect the purity and continuation of the bloodline.
Back when Senju Tobirama held power in Konoha, they no longer did such things. In fact, Tobirama had actively encouraged clansmen to choose the person they would spend their lives with.
To Ryōta, that had always been incomprehensible.
Even though he had ultimately supported Tobirama's decision, that didn't mean he truly agreed with it.
Because in that era, Tobirama had completely controlled the Senju clan—and Tobirama was nothing like Hashirama, who could be reasoned with.
The Second Hokage's forcefulness was beyond imagining. Once he made a decision, he would not permit opposition.
Faced with someone like that, even a man like Senju Ryōta had been forced to submit—bowing his head and following Tobirama's wishes with perfect obedience.
Ryōta wasn't an extremist clan-first zealot, but in his heart, he firmly opposed that "integrate into the village" line.
Because it would make the Senju forget who they were.
And the outcome had unfolded just as he'd predicted.
After Tobirama's death, and with a certain force pushing Tobirama's "Senju融入木叶" policy forward at insane speed—
In barely a decade, the Senju had fallen into their current decline.
Still… there were those who wanted to rebuild.
Senju Shōma was one of them, and Ryōta respected him greatly.
If not for Shōma, the Senju would never have been able to retreat into secrecy, much less quietly rebuild to even this limited scale.
It was nothing compared to the clan's peak—but it was far better than their darkest period.
More importantly…
Shōma had raised an ANBU captain.
Ryōta understood exactly how much value an ANBU captain could provide.
And with that, his ambitions began to swell—especially because the fiancée Shōma had chosen for that ANBU captain came from Ryōta's own territory.
"Especially since that kid awakened Wood Release," Ryōta mused, "and they say he's gentle—upright and sunny, just like Lord Senju Hashirama."
Wood Release. ANBU captain.
Either identity alone was irresistible. Together, they were impossible for the current Senju to refuse.
Ryōta knew it—he was tempted.
And once the temptation took root, another thought followed naturally:
If everyone claimed they were acting "for the Senju," then why was Shōma the only one allowed to hold that man?
Why couldn't Ryōta?
The Senju would revive.
That conviction ran through every Senju who still believed in the old ideals—and now that Hikaru had risen, all of them wanted to be the one who held the clan's future.
Shōma already occupied an overwhelming advantage. Most would never catch up.
But Ryōta was different.
Your future wife is my person.
One of your four Senju ANBU operatives is my person.
And their families are in my hands.
So even if I can't control you directly, I can influence you through the people around you—until you become mine.
That was Ryōta's plan, and he'd acted on it.
Before Senju Renge was sent into Senju Hikaru's home, Ryōta had already taken control of her mother.
Not only Renge.
Even the "kid" Ryōta had placed in ANBU—his family was also completely under Ryōta's control.
All he needed to do now was wait.
Wait for the fermentation.
Wait for the moment the bottle was finally opened.
"Tonight's moon is beautiful," Ryōta said softly.
He raised his head toward the bright, clean moon, smiled, and pushed open his door.
And the instant he stepped inside—
He knew something was wrong.
Dark.
No lights were on.
Silent.
The house was too quiet.
Ryōta was not a man without family.
He had a wife who'd shared life with him for years, and children who were obedient and filial.
Normally, even if the house wasn't noisy, it would never feel like this.
His wife would greet him.
His children would call out.
But tonight—none of it happened.
Ryōta's teeth clenched. A kunai flashed into his hand as he moved forward carefully, heart tightening.
He didn't know what had happened.
But he knew one thing: he had to protect his family.
Click.
The lights snapped on.
And Ryōta saw a scene that made his eyes split with fury.
His wife and children lay on the floor.
Not just them—servants as well, all collapsed.
And on the sofa sat a young man, watching him with amused interest.
Behind that young man stood four youths in a straight line.
One of them—
Was the very person Ryōta had sent into ANBU.
"You—" Ryōta started to snarl.
He was cut off.
"Shh. Keep your voice down," the youth said, bringing a finger up in a calm gesture. His smile was warm, almost polite. "You're Senju Ryōta-sama, correct? First time meeting you. Please take care of me."
Then, as if remembering something, he added with a sheepish grin:
"Oh, right. Let me introduce myself."
"I am Senju Hikaru."
Senju Hikaru.
In truth, Ryōta didn't need the introduction—he already knew.
But the moment the identity was confirmed, panic swelled in his chest.
Why was Hikaru here?
Ryōta knew, intellectually, that Hikaru had reasons to come.
But he had never imagined this situation.
I've been sold out?
That thought flashed through his mind—and once it appeared, fear began to gnaw at his control.
No.
He forced himself to calm down.
Nothing was confirmed yet.
He couldn't collapse first.
"Hikaru…" Ryōta said through clenched teeth, staring hard. "I know who you are. You're an ANBU captain. But tell me—Captain—what exactly are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" Hikaru smiled.
Then he smoothly produced a kunai.
The blade spun in his fingers, a soft blur, before settling into a casual grip.
And his gaze drifted—not to Ryōta, but to the bodies on the floor.
Ryōta's heart slammed.
And when Hikaru's kunai angled toward Ryōta's son—
Ryōta snapped.
"Stop!"
He lunged forward.
Hikaru looked up at him and smiled—just once.
Ryōta felt cold rush through his blood.
Because in that moment, he felt a chill at his throat—
A kunai had been laid against his neck.
"I haven't decided anything yet," a gentle voice said from behind him. "Why is Ryōta-sama in such a hurry?"
Ryōta's breath caught.
That voice was warm, even friendly—yet it felt like he'd fallen into a bottomless abyss.
"It seems Ryōta-sama wants to help me make a decision," Hikaru continued softly. "Fine."
"Then you choose."
"Senju Hikaru—what the hell do you mean?!"
Ryōta's hands trembled violently. After a long moment, he lowered his own kunai and squeezed his eyes shut.
"What do you want?"
Hikaru withdrew the kunai from Ryōta's throat.
He stepped around to stand in front of him, smiling as if they were merely chatting.
"What do I want? Simple."
"If Ryōta-sama enjoys using 'side methods,' then I'll respond in kind."
"I know this isn't moral. I know it's cruel."
"But after years in ANBU, you get used to certain things."
"So, Ryōta-sama—make your choice."
He lifted the kunai slightly, the edge catching the light.
"Do you want your wife to be my target?"
"Or your child?"
Ryōta's pupils shrank.
Hikaru wasn't even pointing at anyone anymore—yet the mere presence of that blade made Ryōta's scalp prickle.
At this point, Ryōta was certain: Hikaru had the information.
Hikaru had everything.
But—why?
Wasn't this kid supposed to be gentle?
Wasn't he supposed to be like Lord Hashirama?
Then why did the man standing before him feel nothing like Hashirama at all?
No… there was one similarity.
That warm, mild manner—on the surface.
But this wasn't gentleness.
It was a mask.
A mask worn while holding a knife.
Had everyone been fooled? Were all the rumors carefully manufactured?
This man wasn't Senju Hashirama.
He was Senju Tobirama.
No—worse.
He was even more forceful.
Ryōta's entire body began to shake.
He had seen Tobirama's methods with his own eyes in his youth.
To face something like that again—something even sharper—
He felt despair rising like a tide.
He inhaled hard, fighting to regain control.
Then he stared at Hikaru's white hair—so similar to Tobirama's—and spoke hoarsely.
"We're all Senju. Why do this to your own clan?"
"Yes," Hikaru said, nodding with that same warm smile. "We're all Senju."
"That's why the identity I brought here is Senju Hikaru."
"Not Konoha's Nightingale."
"If I'd come as the Nightingale… you wouldn't have had a chance to speak. Not from the beginning."
Not as ANBU.
As Senju Hikaru.
Ryōta's eyes brightened, just slightly—like a man spotting a narrow crack in a sealed door.
If Hikaru had come as ANBU, then there would be no negotiation.
ANBU didn't have Root's reputation for cruelty, but that didn't mean they couldn't do the same things.
Evidence?
That was easy to fabricate.
Create "convincing" proof, file it through procedures, and the dead could be labeled traitors.
Back when ANBU first formed, such things had happened.
Ryōta remembered it clearly.
Perhaps Tobirama had later rebuilt Root precisely to keep ANBU "clean," and to prevent one organization from holding all the darkness.
Hikaru was Senju, raised by Shōma, and he'd lived in ANBU long enough to know that history inside out.
If he didn't come as ANBU—
Then there was room to turn.
There was a price to pay, yes.
But not immediate execution.
Ryōta swallowed, then raised his head.
"I understand."
"What does Hikaru-kun want?"
"Smart," Hikaru said, the smile widening.
He calmly put the kunai away.
"Ryōta-sama has worked himself to the bone for the Senju for many years."
"You've sacrificed enough."
"I think you'd be happy to rest now."
"And spend more time with your wife and children."
Ryōta's face went white.
"You—!"
He tried to speak, but Hikaru's smile stopped him mid-breath.
That smile only became colder the more it bloomed.
"Ryōta-sama is worried," Hikaru continued lightly, "that after you step down, there won't be a suitable successor to manage your territory?"
"Don't worry."
"I'm sure Shōma-sama will arrange everything."
"And as for the 'rebellious' people who don't want you to rest—"
"I'll visit them personally."
"Who knows?"
"Perhaps some of them have already betrayed the Senju."
"After all, Ryōta-sama has served so long."
If they refuse to let him rest, it's clearly because they are shameless… and harbor ulterior motives.
"As a younger member of the Senju," Hikaru said softly, stepping closer, "it's only natural that I remove unstable elements like that. Isn't it?"
His smile remained bright.
But his eyes were razor-sharp.
Ryōta—pale, trembling—looked like he'd aged ten years in a single breath.
Hikaru's voice stayed calm, gentle, almost courteous.
"This is the advice I'm offering you, Ryōta-sama."
"Do you find it acceptable?"
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